


Throwing Yourself Headfirst Into Danger Is Not Always a Good Idea: a Guide by Shawn Spencer

by myglassesaredirty



Category: Psych
Genre: !!!!! doing things healthily!!!!, !!!!! talking about problems!!!!!, (i say even tho i'm highkey emotionally constipated), ???? - Freeform, Betrayal, Bloody Hands, Bruises, Bullying, Car Accidents, Drug Rings, Electrocution, Emotional Constipation, Family Bonding, Fever, Fluff, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, He's Trying His Best Okay, Heart Attacks, Hospital Scenes, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Insomnia, Kidnapping, Nightmares, POV Shawn Spencer, Poisoning, Psychological Torture, Scared Shawn Spencer, So much angst, Stabbing, Stranded, Tags, Torture, Whumptober 2018, guys i was gonna do all of it but i just can't, heyo stop your emotional constipation!!!!, i don't have that kind of energy, i'm procrastinating 6 different assignments to write this h e l p, is that a thing? someone pls tell me idk i've never done the fluff, it is Very Bad, it's okay henry is too, just some, not a lot, partially, pov henry spencer, some au's, young shawn spencer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-07-28 21:00:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16249700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myglassesaredirty/pseuds/myglassesaredirty
Summary: Shawn Spencer has a penchant for getting into trouble. Most of the time, this means that he broke the rules and is grounded for it (or, rather, glared at by the SBPD and his father). That was how it used to be.Now, when he gets into trouble, it's much more of the life-or-death variety.





	1. Week 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to do all of these and post week by week, and I might still do 28 of them, but I cannot guarantee doing it week by week. School is killing me and weekends don't exist.
> 
> Week 1 warnings:  
> Stabbing, blood, guns, bad arguments, and attempted hanging (not suicide, murder, but still, not good)

  1. **stabbed**



 

He’s not exactly too keen on being awakened earlier than 10 in the morning. Nothing could make this situation okay.

 

Especially since he found the suspect for the murder case he’s on, and that same suspect is pushing him forward with a gun pressed to the back of his head.

 

“Man, it is way too early to be dealing with this,” Shawn says, jerking his hands against the rope that binds them together. Taylor Embrely, aka the suspect, hits the butt of the gun against Shawn’s head.

 

“Alright, I’m moving, I’m moving.” Shawn looks around the field. It’s too dark for him to see anything substantial, and he can’t even see where the edge of the field is. He just keeps walking towards the middle, where Embrely must have hidden something important. Or maybe Embrely dug Shawn’s grave earlier. Who knows. It’s a mystery.

 

_ “I know I test you a lot on what you see. I’ve tested what you’ve heard. I need you to identify smells and touch. It might save your life someday.” _

 

Shawn closes his eyes and tries to block any noise from entering his brain. The world fades to an even darker black, and the sound of his and Embrely’s feet crunching the dirt and rock pebbles becomes white noise. He can’t see, he won’t hear.  _ Pay attention. _

 

He twists his hand. The rope cuts into his skin, and he manages to grip a thread of the rope between his index finger and thumb. He rubs it between his fingers. It feels weak, like it is quite literally hanging on by a thread. He tugs on it. It snaps.

 

He turns his face up to the sky and breathes deeply. The clean night air tickles his nose, and aside from the obvious dirt and underbrush that he saw earlier, he can’t smell anything els–

 

Wait a minute.

 

He falters for a moment, trying to place that smell. It’s onions and– and  _ bricks, _ something like that. He inhales deeper, and he still comes up with nothing.  _ Man, where is Gus when I need him? _ he thinks.

 

Shawn tries again, but this time, he tries to turn his face away from Embrely’s open-mouthed breathing.  _ Think, Shawn. _

 

Gasoline. Singed hair.

 

_ Breathe deeper. _

 

Wood. It’s faint, but it’s there.

 

Shawn’s eyes snap open. He knows where Embrely is taking him.

 

It is not pretty.

 

*

 

They’re getting closer to the fire site with each passing second, and Shawn is frantically trying to think of ways to overpower the obvious obstacle behind him. He tilts his head back and listens with his good ear.

 

Before he writes it off as a loss, he hears silent feet weaving between the underbrush. Their steps are silent, but the dirt shifts, pebbles scatter, and jackrabbits hurry away. The person never goes any faster than his pace now. He’s closer to Embrely than he is to Shawn. His breathing is controlled, so quiet that Shawn couldn’t even dream of hearing it at this moment. He takes one step for every three Shawn and Embrely take.

 

_ Lassie. _

 

Shawn bites his bottom lip and throws his head back. The gun slips from Embrely’s hand, and Shawn immediately kicks it away, spinning on his heel to face him.

 

“Not so brave now, are ya?” Shawn grins and bounces up and down. Lassie’s gonna save him, Lassie’s gonna save him, Lassie’s gonna –

 

“Spencer, you  _ really _ need to learn to think before you speak,” Embrely says, reaching into his boot. He pulls out a knife – it’s sheathed, but that’s going to change in the matter of exactly 6 seconds, and Shawn knows that it’s practically impossible to run well without the use of his arms.

 

I mean, it’s not like he’s  _ not _ going to try to outrun Embrely.

 

He turns around and sprints away, his hands awkwardly tied behind his back. It takes Embrely all of 45 seconds to catch up, spin Shawn around, and flash his knife.

 

“I- I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” Shawn says, “I mean, jail is no fun, I- I can assure you, and if you stab me, that- that will not bode well for you –”

 

Embrely glances over his shoulder. Lassie isn’t trying to keep quiet anymore, and he’s getting closer. Embrely looks back to Shawn and digs the blade into Shawn’s stomach.

 

Shawn’s knees buckle and he pitches forward. Embrely side-steps him and takes off again.

 

Shawn just manages to catch himself before he falls face-first into the ground. Lassie runs up to him. “Spencer! You alright?”

 

Shawn lifts a hand and waves him off. “I- I think I’m good, Lassie. Don- don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. Go catch him.”

 

Lassiter seems torn between helping Shawn and pursuing justice. One foot shifts towards Embrely’s direction, the other stays planted.

 

“Go!”

 

Lassiter runs off.

 

Shawn pants, and his vision swims before him. He knows he shouldn’t take out the knife, but it’s so sharp and it’s really wedged in there. He tries to grip it with his free hand, but his hand is shaking badly and the handle is slick with blood.

 

“Oh, God,” he says. “I’m really going to die out here.” He coughs, and he knows that specks of blood came up with it. “Lassie!” he shouts, but his voice is too weak, and it won’t carry far. “Lassie, I need- Lassie, I need your help! I- I think I’m- I think I’m dying!”

 

“Shawn!”

 

Shawn shakes his head and gulps. He needs to stay awake; he needs to get up. He braces a shaking hand on the ground and tries to push himself up, but his arm trembles and he nearly collapses.

 

“Shawn, I’m close, buddy! Keep talking! Don’t stop!”

 

His mouth feels like cotton. Is that normal? He feels like that’s not normal. “Dad? Is- is that you?”

 

“Yeah, Shawn, it’s me. Keep talking to me, where are you?”

 

“Um…I- I tripped? No, I didn’t trip. Um…I think I might have gotten stabbed. The knife is really wedged in there, Dad.” He chokes back a sob. “It hurts.”

 

He hears Henry’s steps falter. “Oh, God, you’re way too young to deal with this,” he murmurs, and under any other circumstances, Shawn wouldn’t have heard him, but his sight is deprived and he’s about to die.

 

“Dad, please come get me.”

 

“I’m coming, son, I’m coming.” Henry’s steps come closer. Slower, but closer. “Let’s play a game.”

 

“I’m- I’m not closing my eyes, Dad, I think that’s…a really  _ bad _ idea.”

 

Henry chuckles, but it’s without all of his usual warmth. “No, we’re not going to play the hat game. What- what about 20 questions? Is that okay?”

 

“Dad, I- I can hear your shoes. You’re- you’re really close.”

 

“Keep talking.”

 

“Did- did you happen to bring a phone? Maybe you could- could call an ambulance?” Shawn coughs again, and he feels blood spurt from his mouth. “I don’t have…a whole lot of time.”

 

Henry kneels in front of him. “I’m right here, son. Don’t worry. Everything will be okay.” He pulls Shawn closer to him, rolling him onto his side. “You’re not gonna die, I won’t let that happen.”

 

“You’d get your PlayStation back.”

 

Henry smiles softly and starts running his hand through Shawn’s hair. “I don’t want it back. Not if it means you have to go.”

 

“Dad, I’ll- I’ll be fine. As long as you call an ambulance.”

 

Henry licks his lips and nods. “Son, about that…”

 

Shawn inhales shakily. “Lemme guess: there’s no service.”

 

Henry nods slowly. “I’m sorry, son.” His eyes look watery. “There’s nothing I can do until Lassiter gets back.”

 

Shawn grips Henry’s arm with his hand. “Dad, I don’t wanna die, I don’t wanna die, please, please, Dad, don’t let me –”

 

“Shh, shh.” Henry cradles Shawn’s head. “You won’t die, son, I promised you that.”

 

Shawn’s eyes are wild. “Dad, what- what if I do die? What is it like? I don’t- I’m scared, I can’t do this.”

 

“Would you listen to me? You are _ not _ going to die.” He stops to think. “I just wanted you to know, son: I love you more than anything in the world.”

 

“My eyes feel heavy.”

 

“Don’t close them. Whatever you do,  _ don’t _ close your eyes.”

 

Shawn hums. “Too late. I’m going to take a nap.”

 

“Shawn! Shawn!” Henry taps Shawn’s cheek, but there’s no response.

 

Lassiter runs up. “The slippery bastard got away. We’ll find him, I –” His eyes land on Shawn. “Oh, God, what happened?”

 

Henry looks up. “I need you to rush him to a hospital.”

 

*

 

Shawn is in a coma for three long weeks. During that time, Juliet and Lassiter (with Vick’s and Gus’s help) manage to track down Taylor Embrely and charge him with attempted murder, kidnapping, and first degree murder.

 

It took Lassiter, Gus,  _ and _ Jules to drag Henry away from Shawn’s side after he got out of surgery. He hardly slept, and he paced a hole in the carpet of the waiting room and his own home. He was no better when he sat beside Shawn’s hospital bed. Madeleine had to coax him into his own bed after a solid three days without sleep.

 

When Henry wasn’t at the hospital, he tried to help work the case against Shawn’s attacker. No one on the force had ever seen him so determined, nor had any of them seen him so angry. Vick promptly removed him from consultation due to conflict of interest.

 

Right now, it’s Maddy’s turn to sleep, and the hospital staff reluctantly lifted the visiting restrictions for Shawn’s parents. Henry tried to talk to Shawn for the first couple of days, but he got choked up every time he thought of what could have happened and what might still happen. Right now, he’s reading  _ And Then There Were None, _ which was one of two books Shawn read at school that he loved.

 

“Dad?”

 

Henry immediately drops the book, sits up, and brushes Shawn’s hair from his forehead. “Yeah, Shawn? I’m right here.”

 

“That knife was a little bitch.”

 

Henry snorts. “You’re going to be just fine, Shawn. The doctors did a good job.”

 

Shawn licks his lips. His eyes are still half-lidded, and the drugs are probably going to drag him back to sleep soon. “Dad? I don’t know how you were able to stand this as a cop.”

 

Henry smiles softly, and his eyes are a little more misty than normal. He blames allergies. “I had a son I needed to protect.”

 

“This sucks ass, Dad.”

 

“I know, son, I know. You’re tired. Go back to sleep.”

 

Shawn continues to nod, and he licks his lips again. “I don’t wanna get stabbed again.”

 

“You won’t. Not on my watch.” Henry watches as Shawn’s eyes flutter closed. “And, Shawn?”

 

“Yeah, Dad?”

 

“You know I love you, right?”

 

The corner of Shawn’s mouth twitches in a half-smile, and his left hand reaches for Henry’s. “I know, Dad. I love you, too.”

 

**

 

  1. **bloody hands**



 

Sometimes he questions how he got into this business in the first place. Certainly, he knows the  _ how _ behind it, but he wonders why he ever called in tips to the police, why he ever listened to his dad during his childhood.

 

Granted, he only questions his life decisions when he’s in a life-or-death situation. Like he is now.

 

He chased after Jacob Henley because he was sure that Jacob was in danger (and Lassie wasn’t too keen on investigating it, and Henry  _ certainly _ will chew Shawn out for throwing himself into another life-threatening situation later, but that’s another matter for another time), and his hunch was correct: Jacob is dead. He found him lying on the ground, blood spurting from his neck like a fountain. He called Lassie a few minutes ago, and at Lassiter’s tone, he left the scene of the crime immediately.

 

He heard someone cock a gun, and now he’s sprinting away as fast as he can. Gus is on a date with a girl, and Shawn doesn’t want to jinx it by calling him to save him. Besides, Shawn isn’t too keen on risking anyone’s life but his own at the moment.

 

The suspect fires his gun and the bullet misses Shawn by a hair.

 

_ “C’mon, Shawn, I taught you to zig-zag a long time ago. We’re doing it again.” _

 

_ “But, Dad, I don’t think I’m ever going to be chased by a guy with a gun! What if I’m not a cop?” _

 

_ “Regardless of if you join the force or not, I want you to be prepared if you ever end up in a situation like this. Now run!” _

 

Shawn ducks and weaves back and forth, back and forth. The suspect fires again, but Shawn stays low. The blood on his hands has begun to dry. It’s sticky. It’s gross.

 

It means someone died because he was too late.

 

In that moment of distraction, the suspect aims randomly and fires. The bullet tears through Shawn’s knee. His knee buckles, Shawn screams, and he falls.

 

“Fuck,” he grits through his teeth, holding his knee in his left hand. The pain stabs through his entire being, and he rolls onto his back. “I- this is  _ so _ much worse than getting shot in the shoulder.”

 

The suspect is hooded, and he points the gun at Shawn again. Before he can do much about it, another silhouette stands behind the hooded figure. “Drop your weapon!”

 

Oh, thank God. Jules is his knight in shining armor.

 

The figure huffs and drops his gun, letting it clatter to the ground.

 

“Hands where I can see them!”

 

Another person runs up behind Jules, and Shawn groans, letting his head hit the ground beneath him. “Hey, Dad.”

 

“You, Shawn, are an idiot.”

 

“Yeah, Dad, I get it. Can we talk about this later? Like at the hospital? Or maybe after?”

 

“Shawn, shut up.” Juliet glares at him until Shawn lifts his free hand in surrender, and then she turns to the suspect. “Avery Wilpher, you’re under arrest for drug possession, attempted murder, and the murder of Jacob Henley. Put your hands behind your back.”

 

Wilpher complies, and Juliet holsters her gun and handcuffs him. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law.”

 

Once she leads him away, casting an apologetic look at Shawn, Henry hurries over. “Why didn’t you call someone to come bail you out of this mess?” He reaches his hand out, and Shawn takes it.

 

“Well, Dad,” Shawn says, groaning in pain once he’s on his feet, “Gus was a little busy tonight. He’s with a great girl, I didn’t wanna screw that up.” He sways on his feet and swears.

 

Henry steadies him. “Why didn’t you call  _ me? _ I’m your father, I would have come in a heartbeat. Besides, you shouldn’t risk Gus’s life like that.”

 

Shawn nods furiously. “Yeah, Dad, that’s why I  _ didn’t _ call him!” He looks into his father’s eyes, and he sees the same question:  _ why didn’t you call me? _ “And,” he says, running his free hand through his hair, “I…I didn’t want to worry you. Or interrupt you. Or wake you up.”

 

“Shawn, I bailed you out of Canadian prison, do you  _ really _ think that I wouldn’t help you out now?”

 

Shawn licks his lips. “Dad, can we just get to the hospital? This gunshot wound hurts like a bitch.”

 

Henry nods and holds up a hand. “We will in just a sec, just…I want you to answer me: did you really think I wouldn’t help you out?”

 

Shawn runs his tongue over his top row of teeth. “No, that’s not- I  _ knew _ you would, and I didn’t- I didn’t want to put your life in danger. It’s fine if it’s my life at stake, and I won’t ever call Gus into a situation once  _ I’ve _ been endangered, and the only reason I call Lassie or Jules is because they’re trained cops –”

 

_ “I’m _ a trained cop, Shawn.”

 

“Yeah, but you’re old…er, and you’re –” he waves a hand ambiguously. “You’re my dad.” He sighs and runs his hand through his hair again. “I don’t want to put you in danger.”

 

“I’d rather myself be in danger than you.” Henry sighs and jerks his head towards the car. “C’mon, I’ll take you to the hospital.”

 

Shawn hops after him, his free hand digging into Henry’s shoulder. “You’ll let me bleed all over your truck?”

 

“It’s an old truck,” Henry says, glancing over his shoulder. He shrugs. “Besides, I have a towel in the bed.”

 

Henry helps Shawn into the truck and wraps the towel around his knee. Once he’s in the car, however, Henry notices the blood on Shawn’s hand. “That’s not yours,” he says, pointing to the red stain on Shawn’s right hand.

 

Shawn looks down. “Oh. Yeah, I tried to help the victim, but um…” he licks his lips. “I was too late.”

 

“Do the police know about that? Your prints will be all over him.”

 

Shawn looks up sharply. “Oh, yeah, yeah, I called Lassie and told him. They know.”

 

Henry purses his lips and opens the glove compartment. “Here,” he says, passing Shawn an alcohol wipe, “clean it off.”

 

Shawn scrubs his right hand. “Thanks, Dad.”

 

“Anytime.”

 

**

 

**_iii._ ** **insomnia**

 

It’s been four weeks. Four weeks of lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, and practically begging his body to fall asleep. Four weeks of intermittently throwing up when no one was looking because his body doesn’t know how to handle these sleepless nights any longer. His hands shake, his eyes are red, and he doesn’t know how he’s made it so long.

 

He sleeps for a few minutes at a time, but not any longer than two hours per night. He’s turned off his tv, he’s taken fewer and easier cases, he’s tried going to bed earlier and sleeping later, but nothing works. Gus is concerned about him. He doesn’t know what’s wrong, exactly, but he knows that there’s something wrong with Shawn.

 

His insomnia has affected his ability to work on cases, and Shawn has confided in only Chief Vick that he can’t sleep at night, and that he doesn’t know what’s wrong with him, but whatever it is, it’s hampering his ability to work on cases. Chief Vick thanked him and wished him well.

 

Tonight is day 31 of sleepless nights, and he’s tried everything else thus far: working out, reading, working a case, solving puzzles, playing Solitaire. When he’s deduced that none of those things are going to work, he gets his phone and makes a call.

 

It rings once, twice, three times. In the middle of the fourth ring, Henry picks up and says, “You better have a damn good reason for waking me up at 3 in the fucking morning, Shawn.”

 

Shawn exhales shakily. “I can’t sleep.”

 

“Take a Melatonin.”

 

“No, Dad –” Shawn sighs again and looks around the dark room. “It doesn’t help. I’m not able to work cases, I’m worrying Jules and Gus – to be honest, I think even Lassie is concerned, but he won’t ever admit it –, and I just- it’s making me sick, Dad. I throw up because I’m just- my body- I can’t handle this, Dad, it’s scaring me.”

 

“Whoa, there, kid. Take a breath. Calm down, you’ll be just fine. Is there anything specifically you’re worrying about or you’re thinking really hard about? Juliet, maybe? A closed case that isn’t sitting well with you?”

 

Shawn shakes his head, well aware of the fact that his father can’t see him. “No, it’s none of that. I’m not overthinking anything, I just. Can’t sleep. No matter how tired I am, I get only two hours of sleep at the most.”

 

Henry sighs, and Shawn imagines him running a hand over his scalp. “It happens, sometimes. Insomnia. Sometimes, it can be completely random. You should probably try a doctor.”

 

“And waste a lot of money for him to tell me the same thing you will? I’m running out of options, Dad.”

 

“Well, what do you want me to do, sing you a lullaby?”

 

Shawn pauses and purses his lips. “You know, that’s not a bad idea.”

 

Henry sighs. “Alright, Shawn. Close your eyes.”

 

Shawn lies back down on his mattress. “You know I don’t trust you when you say that.”

 

“We’re not playing that stupid hat game this time. Just get ready to fall asleep.”

 

Shawn pats his mattress. “I’m on the bed now.”

 

“Okay, good. Just listen to me: remember when you were little and your mom would be out of town, and you’d get scared during the storm?”

 

“Very vaguely, and that’s only because you’d sing me lullabies and you sounded like a dying cat.”

 

“Gee, thanks, Shawn, it’s not like I’m trying to help you right now or anything. Just…do you remember that?”

 

Shawn licks his lips. “Yeah,” he says. “I remember you telling me to listen to the sound of the rain hitting the roof and I remember you singing me a lullaby.”

 

“Right. Well, imagine the sound of raindrops.”

 

“I’m not Mom, Dad, I can’t just recall random sounds –”

 

_ “Shawn.” _

 

“Okay, okay.” He closes his eyes tightly and tries to imagine the sound of rain. “Okay, got it.”

 

Henry clears his throat.  _ “Before you go to sleep, say a little prayer. Every day in every way, it’s getting better and better. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy. Out on the ocean, sailing away, I can hardly wait to see you come of age. But I guess we’ll both just have to be patient, ‘cause it’s a long way to go. A hard row to hoe, yes, it’s a long way to go. But in the meantime: before you cross the street, take my hand. Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy.” _

 

Shawn’s breathing slows. “Dad, could- could you keep singing?”

 

Henry sighs. “Okay, son.”

 

**

 

  1. **“No, stop!”**



 

_ Young Shawn: 1986 _

 

Henry is not too big a fan of late cases. He tried to trade with Budderbee, but Budderbee wasn’t willing to take on the case (though  _ why _ he wasn’t willing is beyond Henry; minus the terrible hours, it’s actually pretty interesting), which meant that  _ Henry _ had to work late trying to bring in the perp. He did, and he got a confession out of him, but it’s now 3:24 in the morning, and he missed Shawn’s baseball game last night. He knows Shawn says he doesn’t mind, but he knows that every time he has to take a rain check, Shawn gets hurt.

 

Sometimes he wishes he worked a normal jobs with normal hours, but then, no part of his family is normal.

 

He eases the front door open, taking care to lock it and make sure that his family will be as safe as possible for the night. As he hangs his police hat on the stand, he hears something coming from Shawn’s room.

 

“Dammit, is he still  _ awake?” _ Henry mutters, (quietly) dropping his briefcase on the table and rushing upstairs. He follows the sound of a struggle and opens the door to Shawn’s room.

 

Shawn is completely twisted in the sheets, and his brow is sweaty. Henry takes a step inside, believing that Shawn is sick, but he stops as soon as a sob escapes Shawn’s lips. “Please,” Shawn whispers, “please don’t get any closer.”

 

Henry stops mid-step.

 

Shawn gasps and his body tenses. There’s a long stretch of silence (it’s only about 4 seconds, but it feels like an eternity to Henry), and then Shawn rolls onto his side. “No, stop!”

 

_ Fuck it, _ Henry thinks. “Shawn!” he says, sitting on the mattress. Shawn doesn’t wake up until Henry grips his shoulders in his hands and gently shakes him awake. “Shawn, wake up, it’s me!”

 

Shawn’s eyes fly open, and he looks around wildly, his breaths coming rapidly, before his eyes settle on Henry. His breathing begins to even out. “Dad,” he chokes out, throwing his arms around Henry’s neck, “you’re okay.”

 

Padded steps come hurrying down the hall, and Henry looks out Shawn’s door just as Maddy comes in, tying her robe. “Shawn, honey, are you alright?” she asks. She looks to Henry, and Henry just shrugs.

 

Shawn nods his head. “I just had a nightmare.” The nightmare is clearly still fresh in Shawn’s mind because he tightens his grip on Henry.

 

Henry gently rubs Shawn’s back and motions for Maddy to sit on Shawn’s other side. Some dreams he can take on by himself. This does not seem to be one of those experiences. The mattress dips when Maddy sits down, and Shawn removes one arm from Henry’s neck to wrap it around Maddy’s.

 

“Shawn, honey, what was it about?”

 

Shawn shakes his head. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

 

“Were you hurt?”

 

“Mom, I don’t wanna talk about it.”

 

Henry winces and shoots an apologetic look at Maddy. “Shawn, would some ice cream help?”

 

Shawn hesitates and then he nods. “Yes, please.” He doesn’t let go of Henry’s neck, so Henry follows Maddy downstairs.

 

Once they get to the kitchen, Maddy makes her way to the freezer. “Chocolate or cookie dough?”

 

Henry gently sets Shawn down in one of the seats, and then he pulls one out for himself and sits right next to Shawn.

 

Shawn purses his lips. “Cookie dough.”

 

Henry’s eyebrows shoot up and he looks at Maddy over the top of Shawn’s head. She makes the same face at him.  _ That bad, huh? _ they silently say to each other.

 

Maddy scoops out the ice cream into a bowl. “How many scoops?”

 

Shawn holds up three fingers. “Three.”

 

Geez, this must have been  _ one _ bad dream.

 

See, Henry’s strength when it came to parenting has never been timing. Depending on the situation, it’s not tact, either. Instead of straight-out asking Shawn what the nightmare was about, he leans back in his chair, lifts one finger at Maddy, and says, “So, how was your baseball game, buddy?”

 

Maddy slides Shawn’s ice cream across the table, and Henry passes it to Shawn. Shawn shrugs. “We lost,” he says, digging his spoon into the ice cream.

 

Once Maddy has gotten her and Henry’s ice cream, she sits down across from Shawn. “Sweetie,” she says, “it might help to talk about it.”

 

Shawn furrows his brow. “You mean the game or the dream?”

 

Henry smiles.

 

Maddy smiles softly. “Whichever you prefer.”

 

Shawn sighs. “Why do I feel like this is a trap?”

 

“Because you lost your baseball game,” Henry says lightly, gently clapping Shawn on the shoulder.

 

Shawn rolls his eyes, finishes his ice cream, and pushes his bowl away. “Dad, remember those guys in the drug ring who put a gun to my head?”

 

Well.

 

Henry was  _ not _ expecting such a direct statement, and certainly not one that painful for him to remember. “Yeah, why?”

 

Shawn bites his bottom lip. “Well, they showed up in my dream. While Gus and us were eating dinner, and they took all of us to this weird warehouse. There were a few that I didn’t recognize. I mean, they were there the first time, but they left before you got there.”

 

Oh, Jesus Christ. Henry’s been a cop long enough to know that Shawn’s dream was more a premonition than anything else.

 

“Anyway, they took us to the warehouse and…” his breathing becomes labored, and he can’t look at either Maddy or Henry. “They started torturing all of you. They didn’t torture me, not like they did with you guys, but– I heard Gus screaming a lot, and Mom was crying, and Dad, you just looked –” Shawn hangs his head and wipes his cheek with the back of his hand. “They were going to kill one of you every time I asked a question. I don’t know who they pointed the gun at first. You woke me up before I knew.”

 

Henry nods slowly. “Maddy, take Shawn back upstairs. He can sleep on my side of the bed.” He stands up and grabs his police hat.

 

Maddy sits up straight. “Why? Where are you going?”

 

He locks eyes with her. “I’m going to find the people who have tortured our son so mercilessly that he can’t even sleep restfully.”

 

“They’re all in jail,” she hisses.

 

Henry shakes his head. “Not according to Shawn, they’re not.” He turns to Shawn. “Are you sure that you saw them with the drug ring? Not somewhere else?”

 

Shawn shakes his head. “No, I saw them with the drug ring, I know it, but Dad,  _ please _ don’t go looking for them.”

 

Henry kneels in front of Shawn and grips his shoulders in both his hands. “I can’t risk them finding you again. If I take care of these guys, then you’re safe. We don’t have to worry about them again.” He moves to stand up, but Shawn grabs his arm.

 

“Dad, don’t go!”

 

Henry smiles softly. “I have to, son. Nothing is more important to me than your safety. Just…tell me what this warehouse looked like or what is was close to. Something. And if you lie to me, I’ll find out, and it’ll just make this whole process longer.”

 

Shawn looks torn between keeping his dad safe and getting this over with as quickly as possible. He finally deflates. “You know that In-’N-Out that’s close to the Baptist church? It was close to that. That’s all I remember, I swear.”

 

Henry kisses Shawn’s forehead and walks over to give Maddy a peck on the lips. “I love you both. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He faces the door and steels himself.

 

It’s time to go capture his son’s tormentors.

 

**

 

  1. **poisoned**



 

His throat feels tight.

 

There’s a part of his brain that keeps screaming at him  _ This isn’t normal, this isn’t normal, this isn’t  _ right, _ something is wrong. _ He turns his head and coughs, clutching the edge of the bar counter with white-knuckled fingers. His breaths come rapidly and labored, his heart beats way too fast, and his vision blurs. He opens his mouth and gulps down air as it comes to him.

 

“Shawn? Shawn!”

 

Whoever’s shouting at him sounds like they’re underwater. His breaths come faster. He doesn’t dare close his eyes long enough to blink.

 

_ Think, _ he tells himself, _ who did you come here with? _

 

The answer is immediate:  _ Dad. _

 

He reaches out one hand, finding his father’s arm and gripping it with the last bit of strength he has. “I- I think –” he swallows and gulps for air again. This- this was a really bad idea. In the extensive history of all his bad ideas, this easily makes the top of the list. “I’ve been poisoned.”

 

Henry twists his arm so that he can hold onto his son. “Shawn, slow down. What do you mean you’ve been poisoned?”

 

Shawn’s throat constricts, and with a lurch of his stomach, he retches. A woman screams in disgust. “Check- check my drink.”

 

Henry furrows his brow and reaches for Shawn’s drink with his other hand. He bends down and sniffs it, and it immediately smells wrong. “Shawn?”

 

Shawn wheezes and pitches forward. His vision is darkening at the edges. Dear God, he’s going to die.

 

“Shawn? Shawn! Hang on, buddy, just hang on. Someone call an ambulance!”

 

Shawn throws up again, and blood dribbles from his lips. It feels like his brain is on fire, sending electrical signals running up and down his entire body. He suddenly feels very cold and very hot at the same time. He opens his mouth to speak, to warn his father of his impending death, but he doesn’t have enough air to speak.

 

He falls from his barstool, and the ambulance has barely left the station.

 

**

 

  1. **betrayed**



 

His whole body shakes as he stares across the living room at his father. His father doesn’t look any different than he did when Shawn was a child – same cop uniform, same blonde hair, same briefcase, even the same fucking stance. He doesn’t look apologetic. He doesn’t look upset.

 

Well, scratch that, he looks pretty damn upset but it’s more anger than anything else.

 

“What the fuck did you  _ do?” _ Shawn finds his voice, and he notices, absently, that he’s curled his hands into fists. His voice shakes with anger, but Henry merely sighs, removes his police hat, and takes a step forward.

 

“Shawn, you’ve known this was coming for a while now.”

 

“I knew you were getting  _ divorced, _ I didn’t fucking think you were gonna kick Mom out and leave me with you!” He knows his face is red, but he really couldn’t care less. Let his father know that he’s fucking pissed.

 

Henry runs a hand through his thinning hair. “Shawn, I- why do you care so much? You’ve been sneaking out of the house every night for the past  _ year, _ and I know that Gus is covering for you on the nights you say you’re spending with him. I know you’ve been drinking. You know why? You’re not too discreet about taking from my stash.”

 

Shawn presses his fists into his eyes and starts pacing. “I can’t fucking  _ believe _ you’re trying to make this about me now! What about you, you arrogant bastard? You kicked Mom out!”

 

“Shawn, maybe if you’d  _ been _ here more, this might have been resolved a little easier.”

 

Shawn looks up sharply. He sets his jaw and his eyes harden. “Maybe if you’d been a better husband and  _ father, _ this wouldn’t have happened.”

 

Henry’s eyes flash. “That’s not fair.”

 

“It totally is!” Shawn shouts. He knows his voice is too loud, and he knows that he’s stepping way out of line, but he doesn’t care. “You’ve  _ never _ been a good dad to me! You trained me for an unending list of  _ highly _ unlikely situations, you have  _ humiliated _ me a dozen and a half times, and you just- you never cared! Not about me, not about Mom, not about anyone but yourself!”

 

Henry’s breaths are labored, and his eyes are on fire, but his voice is calm and steady when he says, “Go to your room, Shawn.”

 

Shawn crosses his arms. “No.”

 

“Fuck, Shawn, just go to your room. I can’t do this with you right now.”

 

Shawn hums. “Maybe you shoulda thought about that before you kicked Mom out.” He turns and runs up the stairs, slamming his bedroom door behind him. He cranks up his music and sinks to the floor, praying to God that his dad can’t hear him crying.

 

**

 

**_vii._ ** **Kidnapped**

 

_ Santa Barbara, 1989 _

 

He’s been working for about seven hours when he gets the dispatch code for a 207 near an elementary school. His heart stops in his throat and he sits up a bit straighter, praying to God that the description of the missing kid won’t match his only son.

 

“Victim is a 12-year-old boy with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. The child is about 5 feet tall, and he was wearing a plaid green collared shirt, jeans, and black tennis shoes.”

 

Henry has heard over twenty parents of missing children tell him and his partners what it feels like when they discovered that their child had been taken. They described it as a loss and longing for air, like the cold hand of death had wrapped around their lungs and refused to let go. They also described an ache in their heart, like someone had shoved their hand into their chests and begun manually pumping blood. There’s a fear that doesn’t go away, that eats away at their lives until their child is found. The grief and fear are unending and all-consuming.

 

He assumed that was true, but he never felt what they did until today.

 

He grips the edge of his desk with both hands, hanging his head limply.

 

_ Shawn has dark brown hair and hazel eyes. _

_ Shawn is twelve years old. _

_ Shawn went to school wearing a plaid green collared shirt, those jeans that he hasn’t let his mother wash for three weeks, and those shoes that he loves as much as  _ Back to the Future _. _

 

He looks up and exhales shakily, slowly standing up.

 

_ Who the  _ fuck _ took my son? _

 

He’s holstering his gun and preparing to leave when Herb steps out of his office. “Henry, you’re not on this case.”

 

Henry looks up sharply. “The  _ fuck _ I am. Who do you think you are?”

 

Herb crosses his arms. “I’m your commanding officer, Henry. This case is personal to you. I can’t let you in on it.”

 

Henry steps closer to Herb. He’s never threatened a superior officer, but he’s damn willing to do so now. “It might not be my son.”

 

Herb doesn’t back down. “That was your son’s elementary school, and the victim perfectly matches his description. I’ll bet you 800 bucks that Shawn’s little friend comes running into the police station any minute. He’ll want you.”

 

Henry clenches his jaw. “Then tell him I’m out looking for my goddamned son.” He turns to leave, but Herb catches his arm.

 

“Henry, I can’t let you on this case.”

 

Henry huffs out a bitter laugh. “You can’t- you’re not letting me in on this case?” He shakes Herb’s hand off of his arm. “That’s my  _ son _ you’re talking about. You think I’m not fucking gonna go after him?”

 

“Henry –”

 

Henry shakes his head. “No, Herb. I have the means to catch the bastard  _ and _ protect my son. I have an obligation to protect the people of this city, yes, but I have a stronger obligation to protect my family. My son is the top of that list.” He takes a few steps. “Maddy’s in session with an officer right now, but when she gets out, tell her. She needs to know.”

 

“Why don’t you tell her?” Herb calls to Henry’s retreating back.

 

“I’ve gotta find my son,” Henry responds, lifting his middle finger in the air to tell Herb just what he thinks of him right now.

 

*

 

When Henry arrives at the school, some of the lingering students and all of the staff are still there. Gus is one of the students, and by the time Henry steps out of his cruiser, Gus is absolutely hysterical.

 

“Mr. Spencer!” Gus shouts, tearing away from his teacher – Mrs. Jenkins, Henry absently recalls – and running straight for Henry. He bowls into Henry, forcing him to take a few steps backwards, and tightly wraps his arms around Henry’s middle. “They took Shawn, they took him, they  _ took _ him. I- I couldn’t do anything, I was just coming out of the school doors and I heard him scream for help, I’m so sorry, Mr. Spencer, I’m so, so sorry –”

 

Henry gently grips Gus’s forearms and kneels in front of him. “Gus, this isn’t your fault. You couldn’t have stopped them. I’ll get Shawn back, but I need your help.”

 

Gus nods solemnly, but his bottom lip trembles and his eyes are filled with tears. “I didn’t- I didn’t see anything, Mr. Spencer. All I heard was Shawn screaming for help, and then he was cut off mid-sentence.”

 

When this is all said and done, Henry’s going to need just five minutes to break down, to bow his head and  _ cry _ like a little child. He doesn’t have that luxury – Gus does, but Henry needs to be strong for Gus and these teachers and Madeleine, and God willing, he needs to be strong for Shawn.

 

Henry purses his lips and nods along. “Okay, Gus. I’m going to talk to your teachers, see if any of them got something. Are your parents coming?”

 

Gus chokes on a sob, and Henry finds himself subconsciously pulling Gus towards him. “They- they are, Mr. Spencer, I’m just- I just –” He seems to stumble across a thought too terrible to bear, because the dam breaks and he buries his face into Henry’s free shoulder. His fists grip the back of Henry’s collar, and Henry slowly rubs his back.

 

“He’ll be fine, Gus. I’ve found missing kids on less information.”

 

“H-how can you have less than nothing?”

 

“Well, I don’t know if I have nothing yet. I need to talk to your teachers, but my partner will take care of that for now. I’ll wait with you until your parents get here.”

 

“Does Mrs. Spencer kno-know?”

 

Henry squeezes his eyes shut and breathes in shakily. “I don’t doubt she does,” he says. Inside, however, he thinks,  _ As soon as she’s able to get out of the police station, she’s going to want to help me. _

 

_ I just hope I have something to give her when she does. _

 

*

 

Madeleine Spencer would tear apart the world with her bare hands if one of her loved ones was in danger. Leaving her job in the middle of a session when she hears that her only child has been kidnapped is not a big deal in her book.

 

In all honesty, Henry would have been upset with her if she hadn’t.

 

She arrives at Shawn’s elementary school about fifteen minutes after Henry got there. By that time, they do have something: a blue 1983 Mustang with the license plate number WYP 3428. Henry doesn’t doubt that it’s stolen, but it’s a lead, and he immediately radioes the chief and relays the information.

 

Maddy’s car door slams and she marches up to Henry, her eyes on fire.  _ “Where _ the hell is my son?” she shouts at him, standing on her tiptoes and glaring into his eyes.

 

“We don’t know yet, Mads. We got a license plate number and a car, but that’s all. It’s probably stolen in the first place.”

 

Maddy is instantly confused by her husband’s resignation. She takes his hand and leads him away from the crowd. “That’s not the sound of giving up I hear.”

 

Henry’s eyes widen in shock. “God, no! I would rather die than give up on this case. No, I’m just –” he runs a hand through his hair. It’s already starting to thin. Soon enough, he’ll be bald. He presses his lips tightly together and turns his face away from Maddy’s. “I don’t know how to find him,” he says, and his voice cracks.

 

Maddy is stunned into silence.

 

Henry’s breaths come faster and faster, and it’s all he can do to keep his tears at bay. “Listen, Mads, it’s always been terrifying working these cases, but it wasn’t- it was never our  _ son, _ and now it is, and I can’t imagine, I just– he’s scared, and he’s alone, and I have no idea where to start looking or even who to look  _ for. _ And I’ve gotta be strong, for you and Gus, but I  _ can’t _ because my son’s  _ life _ is at risk.” He chokes on a sob. “Mad, I screwed up. I can’t save him.”

 

Maddy takes both his hands in hers and runs her thumbs over the back of his hands. “Yes, you can. You’re just –” she stops, takes a breath. “You’re just overwhelmed. And I doubt– I doubt the criminal just took him, you know? Maybe he was targeting you?”

 

Henry nods along, lips pressed together. “Wait,” he says, looking up. “Mads, you might have something there.” He grabs her hand and runs back to the police cruiser. “C’mon, I think we have a lead.”

 

*

 

Three days ago, Jason Leighburg escaped from prison. He had been convicted on charges of assault with a deadly weapon, attempted murder, child molestation, kidnapping, and murdering of 3 minors. He was the walking definition of evil, and he escaped prison.

 

Henry Spencer was the officer that put him there.

 

The chief decided to listen to Henry’s lead and sent out the entire force around Santa Barbara to look for Leighburg. Henry takes Madeleine and heads to the place where he found Leighburg in the first place: Bakersfield, CA.

 

He finds the abandoned shack with relative ease, and he passes Maddy a flashlight and his walkie-talkie. “Stay here,” he whispers. “Leighburg is armed and dangerous. I’ve almost lost Shawn today, I’m not about to lose you, too. I’ll radio if I find him. Keep the lights off.”

 

Maddy clearly wants to go with him, but she understands the seriousness of the situation. “Okay, honey. Please come back soon.”

 

He kisses her goodbye. “I’ll come back as soon as I can. I love you.”

 

She squeezes his hand. “I love you, too.”

 

Henry exits the cruiser and quietly shuts the car door behind him. He unholsters his gun, clicks it off safety, and stealthily moves towards the shack. When he gets closer, he hears something, and he slows down.

 

There are two people in there, and one is putting up a fight.

 

“Just stand  _ still, _ you little fuck!”

 

Yep. Definitely Leighburg.

 

“Oh,  _ fuck  _ you! I’m not doing anything for you!”

 

Henry’s heart stops and he looks up. His ears must have deceived him.

 

_ Shawn. _

 

“Didn’t your father ever tell you not to disrespect your elders?” Leighburg sneers. Henry creeps around the edge of the shack, and he finds a window. What he sees absolutely  _ sickens _ him.

 

Leighburg is tying a noose around Shawn’s neck. Shawn is standing on a chair, and his eyes dart around wildly.

 

“My dad told me to respect respectable people. I don’t think taking me from my school and  _ kidnapping  _ me because you were pissed that you got caught is exactly respectable.”

 

Leighburg backhands Shawn, and Shawn screams in frustration. Henry waits for his chance. He still risks hurting Shawn if he fires now.

 

“Just shut up, or I’ll kill you without finesse.”

 

Shawn sneers and spits in Leighburg’s face. “Go to hell, Leighburg.”

 

“Only after I kill you.” Leighburg tightens the noose around Shawn’s neck and Shawn wheezes at the tightness.

 

If Henry doesn’t act now, he’ll lose his son.

 

He shuffles two steps to his right, lifts his gun in one smooth movement, and aims for Leighburg’s temple. He doesn’t even think about what will happen if he misses. He just fires his gun.

 

Blood splatters in all directions, Shawn tries to scream, and Henry sprints to the door and throws his weight against it. Shawn has one foot barely balancing on the partially toppled chair, and his hands claw at the rope around his neck.

 

Henry doesn’t even glance at Leighburg; he knows he’s dead. Instead, he reaches for another chair and shoves it under Shawn’s feet. Once he’s sure that Shawn is currently out of that danger, he takes the toppled chair, rights it, and stands on it so that he can free Shawn from its noose.

 

As soon as he’s free from his near death-trap, Shawn gasps and lunges for his father. Henry manages to catch him, but he can’t keep his balance, and they both fall backwards – thankfully, not on Leighburg’s corpse. Henry’s back howls in pain, but he ignores it because his son is clinging to him and shaking like a leaf.

 

Henry breathes a sigh of relief, holds Shawn tight, and picks up his radio. “I’ve got him,” he says, still holding Shawn. “Leighburg’s down. Shawn is safe.”


	2. Week Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *cue song music* THEREEEEEE'S  
> fever and bruises, he's stranded and tortured, he survives a car wreck and even a heart attack, when he goes to the hospital, he asks her to stay…  
> And _that's_ the Shawn Spencer we have for today!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off: sorry it took me literally two weeks to update. I vastly underestimated the difficulty of this task.
> 
> Warnings for chapter 2:  
> – bullying  
> – cursing  
> – torture  
> – car wrecks

  1. **fever**



 

_ 1987 _

 

When Shawn walks into the house after getting home from school, Henry immediately knows that something’s amiss. He’s a father. He notices when Shawn is feeling under the weather.

 

For example, Shawn doesn’t ask if he can go hang out with Gus or if Gus can come over. His face is pale, and he shivers randomly. Shawn looks at the program that’s on TV (a show called  _ M*A*S*H; _ Henry loves it, Shawn could do without it) and doesn’t ask if Henry will change it. He doesn’t even stop by the kitchen for an after-school snack.

 

Shawn must be dying, Henry concludes.

 

“Shawn?” Henry calls to Shawn’s retreating back.

 

Shawn stops, his hand on the stair railing. “Yeah, Dad?”

 

“Where are you going?”

 

Shawn looks over his shoulder at his dad, his brow slightly furrowed, causing him to look a little pouty. “I’m going to my room. Is that a bad thing?”

 

Henry scratches his head. “No. No, son, that’s fine. Are you feeling alright?”

 

Shawn swallows and nods his head furiously. “Yeah, I- I feel great, Dad. Just fine. Perfect, actually.”

 

Henry smiles bemusedly. “Try again.”

 

Shawn sighs heavily. “I’m a little tired. I think I’m going to take a nap.”

 

_ He’s taking a nap? Should I call the hospital? _ Henry nods slowly. “Alright, come get me when you’re ready for dinner. I’ll make you some soup.”

 

Shawn gives him a thumbs-up and treks up the stairs. Henry glances at the landline and considers calling Maddy’s hotel in Dallas and telling her that Shawn is feeling so under the weather. She’d cancel her conference and get on a plane immediately if he did. He shrugs it off; it’s nothing he can’t handle.

 

Besides, he really wants to watch this episode of  _ M*A*S*H.  _ Apparently, it’s the one where Margaret and Hawkeye hook up.

 

*

 

Three hours later, Shawn hasn’t come to get him. Henry changed the channel an hour and a half ago, and he’s been listening for any retching, flushing toilets, or coughing from upstairs, but there’s nothing. He’s starting to worry, so he gets up from the couch and heads to Shawn’s room.

 

Shawn’s door is closed, and Henry stops for a moment to look at the artwork that Maddy taped onto his door years ago. Henry’s favorite is Shawn’s drawing of two cops – one is Henry, and the other is Shawn, and they’re working a case together.

 

Henry stares at it for a moment and then lifts his fist to knock on Shawn’s door. When he hears no response, he quietly cracks it open and peeks into Shawn’s room.

 

Shawn is tangled all up in his sheets. His face is practically white, and his hair sticks to his forehead. He clutches his sheets in both of his fists, and he still shivers. Henry barely sets foot into the room when Shawn’s back arches and he starts hacking.

 

Henry sits by Shawn’s side and lifts Shawn up a little bit so that he can breathe easier. Shawn looks at him through bleary eyes. “Dad?” he croaks.

 

Henry pushes Shawn’s hair out of his eyes. “Yeah, it’s me, buddy.”

 

Shawn smacks his tongue. “I feel awful.” His voice is hoarse.

 

Henry presses the back of his hand to Shawn’s forehead. “Jesus, Shawn, you’re burning up.” He strips the covers off of Shawn. “Stay here, and don’t pull the sheets back up. I’ll be right back in just a minute.” He hurries to the bathroom and gets the thermometer, a washcloth, and a bowl that Maddy keeps underneath the sink. He returns to Shawn’s room in exactly 45 seconds. “Here,” he says, shaking the thermometer, “open your mouth.”

 

Shawn does and lets his father stick the thermometer under his tongue.

 

Henry looks down at his watch and waits a full minute, and then he pulls out the thermometer. He lets out a low whistle. “102.4.” He wrings out the cold water from the washcloth. “Why’d you go to school when you felt that sick?”

 

Shawn sighs in relief as soon as Henry lays the washcloth on his forehead. “You wouldn’t let me stay home, remember? The rule is I have to have a 100 degree fever  _ before _ I go to school. You took my temperature and I just had a 99 degree fever.”

 

Henry purses his lips. He and Maddy might have to consider changing that rule. “Alright, well, you and I will get through this. Do you want something to eat?”

 

Shawn blanches. “Just thinking of eating makes me want to puke.”

 

Henry smiles tiredly and removes the washcloth from Shawn’s forehead. “Well, you need to eat something, son.” He sighs. “Get into your pajamas and come downstairs. We can watch whatever you want.”

 

Shawn perks up. “Really?” When Henry nods, he painstakingly swings his legs over the side of his bed. “Okay.”

 

Henry stops him. “On one condition,” he says, holding up his index finger.

 

Shawn’s shoulders sag. “What is it?” he mumbles.

 

“You eat something. Just some soup, I promise. Nothing that your mother wouldn’t eat.”

 

Shawn purses his lips and considers the offer. “That’s fair.”

 

Henry smiles and gently pushes Shawn towards his bathroom. “Alright, get on it, squirt. I’m going to go make your soup.”

 

*

 

Shawn’s favorite movie is  _ Back to the Future. _ When he comes downstairs, Henry has the soup on the stove and Shawn wiggles his way under his father’s arm, and Henry  _ has _ to resist smiling.

 

“Let me guess,” he says, stirring the soup with his free hand.  _ “Star Wars?” _

 

Shawn giggles and shakes his head triumphantly. “Nope! Guess again.”

 

“Hmmm.” Henry examines the soup and decides it’ll be fine to leave for a minute or two. He turns and heads to the fridge, Shawn still huddled under his arm. “Is it  _ Fox and the Hound?” _

 

Shawn briefly pauses to consider the proposition, but shakes his head again. “Nope. One more guess.”

 

Henry opens the fridge, leans down, and pulls out two cans of Sprite. He passes one to Shawn and opens the other. “Let’s see,” he says, guiding Shawn to the couch. He waits until Shawn plops down on the couch and then trades sodas with him. “It has to be  _ Back to the Future. _ That’s it, isn’t it?”

 

Shawn grins. “You knew all along.”

 

Henry winks. “‘Course I did. It’s your favorite movie.” He nods to the VCR. “You get it running, and I’ll get your dinner.”

 

Six minutes into the movie, Henry brings Shawn his soup and Shawn eats it slowly and carefully, taking a sip of Sprite whenever he feels like he’s about to throw up.

 

Thirty minutes into the movie, Shawn falls asleep on Henry’s shoulder, and Henry looks down, smiles, takes a drink of Sprite, and keeps watching his son’s favorite movie.

 

**

 

  1. **Stranded**



 

_ 1983 _

 

He had his first major fight with his dad today.

 

It wasn’t anything really serious – he and his dad got into a fight about whether or not Shawn was going to go fishing with Henry. Henry won, of course, and even Shawn’s own mother betrayed him, citing “quality time with your father” and “you two will get to bond.”

 

Yeah, right. Like killing innocent fish while the smell wrinkles his nose and seeps into his pores is a way to spend quality time with anyone. To make it even worse, Shawn jabbed his thumb on the hook while trying to hook the worm. Henry merely rolled his eyes and showed Shawn how to do it properly.

 

See, Shawn has known his father for his entire life. With the exception of Gus, Shawn knows Henry better than anyone else in the world. He knows that his dad will completely block out any sort of white noise during three different recreational activities: football, hunting, and fishing. The hunting isn’t remotely as often, and Henry has never taken Shawn, but Shawn knows that the same rules that apply to football and fishing will apply to hunting.

 

Right now, Henry is locked in a battle with a fish that doesn’t seem to want to be reeled in (not that Shawn can blame it) and he isn’t paying any attention to Shawn. Shawn glances over his shoulder just to be sure that his dad is still preoccupied, and then he makes his way towards the back of the boat.

 

Henry has two life savers (the floaty kind, not the candy kind; Shawn was dismayed when he learned that) – one in the back of the boat, tied to a rope, and one hanging on the side of the boat. He also has made it clear to Shawn on  _ numerous _ occasions that, in the case the boat begins to sink while both of them are on board, Shawn would get the one laying on the deck and Henry would sever the cord, and, if he could, Henry would get the one hanging on the side of the boat.

 

Maddy doesn’t think it’s practical for one of the life savers to be on the side of the boat. Henry argues appearance.

 

Shawn smirks. He can  _ really _ mess with his dad by jumping into the ocean. The life saver is attached to the rope, and the rope is tied to the boat. He’ll be just fine, and sure, his dad will get mad at him, but they’ll look back on it in a few years and laugh.

 

He looks over his shoulder again, and his dad is still wrestling with the fish. Shawn grins, grabs the life saver, and eases into the chilly ocean water.

 

It’s a lot colder than he expected it to be, but he’ll be fine for a few minutes. His dad will lose the fight with that fish (hopefully) and look over his shoulder to see Shawn bobbing in the water. Of course, Henry will be pissed, but Shawn will laugh and that’ll make it all worth it.

 

Shawn pinches his nose closed with two fingers and dips underwater, coming up in the hole of the lifesaver. He positions his arms on the lifesaver and bobs. The waves gently push at him and Shawn shivers.

 

He licks his lips and decides to look around. Clouds are beginning to roll in, but they’re fluffy and mostly white, with a few dashes of gray. Given a few hours, it’ll probably start storming, but Shawn will already be warm and dry by then. To his left is just an endless expanse of water; no boats disturb it. To his right is another endless expanse of water. A fish swims between Shawn’s legs, and he pulls his leg up immediately, trying to suppress a giggle. For a brief moment, he wonders if it’s a shark, and all the blood drains from his face. When he doesn’t feel the shock of his leg coming off, he assumes it was just one of the fish his dad was trying to catch and shrugs it off.

 

The sun shines directly onto his side, and he closes his eyes and basks in the warmth. He’ll be fine. His dad is nearby.

 

*

 

He’s been fighting this same fish for the better part of ten minutes now, and he’s just about to reel him in when the line snaps.

 

“Damn,” he says, staring aimlessly at the little  _ ploop _ the line makes as it falls into the ocean. He sighs and turns around, expecting Shawn to be sitting in the back of the boat in protest of, as he says it, “killing innocent little sea creatures.”

 

When he looks behind him, Shawn’s not there. He sits up straighter. “Shawn?” he calls. “Shawn, buddy, where are you?” Henry stands up and creeps over to one of the blankets that’s been folded messily. “Shawn, come out of there, you’re not in any trouble.”

 

Nothing.

 

Henry pulls up the blanket, and Shawn’s not underneath.

 

His heart is beginning to beat faster. “Shawn!”

 

Shawn couldn’t have fallen off the boat…right? I mean, Henry certainly would have heard him if he did, but Shawn is absolutely nowhere to be seen.

 

Henry tries to swallow his fear and looks around the boat. There needs to be a clue somewhere…

 

_ There. _

 

The lifesaver is missing.

 

Henry runs his tongue over his teeth. “That damn kid,” he mumbles, turning to look behind him.

 

Shawn’s still not there.

 

He stands up straighter. “Shawn!” he shouts, hoping that his voice will carry far enough that Shawn will hear. “Shawn!”

 

*

 

He’s jolted from his catnap, and when he looks around, he wonders why, exactly, he’s in the ocean and when he got there. It doesn’t take him too long to remember, but as he does, a shiver races up his spine. His arms are dotted with goosebumps, and he feels really,  _ really _ cold. He might as well throw in the towel and call for his dad now. At this point, he’s too cold to enjoy the joke.

 

_ Wait a minute, _ he thinks.  _ Where did the boat go? _

 

He didn’t hear the sound of the engine, and besides, the lifesaver is supposed to be tied to the boat in the first place.

 

_ There’s no rope. _

 

Shawn smacks himself on the forehead. “How could I not notice that?” he asks himself. He squints into the horizon, and at the edge of his vision, he can faintly make out a boat.

 

He pushes himself up on the lifesaver. “Dad!” he shouts. He drops down and waves one of his arms frantically in the air. “Dad, I’m right here! Dad! Dad!”

 

*

 

Before now, he hated the rule that he had to carry his pager with him at all times. Now, he’s thankful for the rule as he pages the station with a message:

 

FISHING WITH SHAWN ON THE OCEAN. HE’S MISSING. I CAN’T SEE HIM. SEND HELP.

 

He doesn’t expect an immediate response, but it sure would be nice. In the meantime, he has to think quickly about a way to save his son. He closes his eyes.

 

_ Think, _ he tells himself.  _ When did you last see him? _

 

His eyes snap open. Shawn was still on the boat ten minutes ago. He heard Shawn complaining in his ear about how the poor fish probably just wanted to eat and how would he, Henry, Shawn’s father, feel if Shawn went to the kitchen one day only to be nearly killed by someone who liked the sport of it. Henry glared at him (the last round with Mr. Yang was unsettling, to say the least, and he doesn’t want Shawn even thinking about people who kill other people for the sport of it) and Shawn sat back and sulked.

 

Henry glances at his watch. That exchange happened about eight minutes ago.

 

_ Where could he have gone in eight minutes? Which direction? _

 

Henry hurries over to the side of the boat and watches the waves. There’s a pattern there, and he’s waiting to see it.

 

His pager buzzes, and Henry has the answer before he checks it. He hurries over to the wheel and turns the ship around. In the distance, if he squints, he thinks he can see a tiny speck.

 

The message on his pager is from the chief. It’s simple and straight to the point:

COAST GUARD NOTIFIED. CONTACT ME IF YOU FIND HIM.

 

*

 

Shawn has decided that he officially doesn’t like the ocean. It’s too big and scary. There are sharks in there somewhere. It’s also really cold. Like.  _ Really _ cold.

 

He hears the sound of an engine and he perks up immediately. A few yards away, he can see his dad’s boat.

 

“Dad!” he shouts, regaining some of his energy. He waves one hand in the air, and he’s shaking with cold, but his dad is here to save him. “Dad, I’m right here!”

 

Henry follows the sound of Shawn’s voice and sees him immediately. He lifts one hand in a stop signal. “Stay right there!” he calls. “I’m going to get as close to you as possible!”

 

Shawn nods and waits as the boat pulls up next to him. Henry kills the engine, grabs a blanket, and hurries to the back of the boat. He kneels, opens his arms, and gestures for Shawn to come close. “C’mere, son. I’ve got you.”

 

Shawn paddles towards the back of the boat and Henry leans forward and grabs Shawn under his armpits and carefully lifts him out of the water and into the boat. Once he’s into the boat, Henry holds him close and cradles his head in his hand.

 

“You’re alright,” he breathes.

 

Shawn’s teeth are chattering loudly and his body jerks because of the cold. “I- I’m safe, D-Dad. I- I’m just really c-cold.”

 

Henry’s eyes widen and he pulls away. “Right,” he says, reaching for the blanket next to him. He wraps it around Shawn’s shoulders and presses a kiss to Shawn’s forehead. “That should help some.” He leans forward again and grabs the lifesaver. “I’ll get you another blanket, c’mon.”

 

Shawn nods solemnly and waits for his dad to pick him up again. “Am I in trouble?”

 

Henry’s shoulders sag and he gently sets Shawn down and wraps another blanket around his shoulders. “Not right now, son. I will have to tell your mother about this, but for now, I’m just glad you’re safe.” He rubs Shawn’s shoulder. “Don’t ever do that again,” he says lowly, standing behind the wheel of the boat.

 

Before he heads back home, he takes his pager and sends out one last message:

 

FOUND SHAWN. CALL OFF THE COAST GUARD. HE’S SAFE.

 

Henry closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “He’s safe,” he whispers, turning the boat back to shore.

 

**

 

  1. **Bruises**



 

_ 1991 _

 

“Gus,” Shawn hisses, “can you see him? Is he in the house?”

 

Gus peers over the windowsill and surveys the kitchen. “I think you’ve got a clear shot. I can’t see him in the kitchen, and the TV isn’t playing. Are you sure he’s off duty today?”

 

Shawn chuckles. “Heh, you said ‘duty.’”

 

“Shawn.”

 

Shawn shakes his head free of the dirty word. “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure he’s off today unless he got called in for a major case, and that would have to be a drug ring or Mr. Yang or something.”

 

Gus purses his lips. “Okay, if you head in now, I think you can make it to your room without him catching you.”

 

Shawn nods and glances around. After all, he can never be too certain that he’s in the clear, especially when it comes to his father. “Alright. Thanks, buddy.” He starts to open the sliding door, but Gus catches his arm.

 

“You do know that you’re not going to be able to hide this from him for long?”

 

Shawn shakes Gus’s hand off. “Yeah, I know, but…” he sighs. “I just need to find a way to break it to him.” He half-expects his father to walk up behind him and ask what, exactly, Shawn has to break to him, but the question doesn’t come. Even Gus seems surprised.

 

Gus twists his lips. “Well…good luck, Shawn. I’ve gotta go study.” He peeks in through the windowsill again. “You’re still clear. Go now.”

 

Shawn claps Gus on the shoulder and sneaks inside the house. Like Gus said, his dad isn’t in the kitchen, and he carefully peeks around the doorframe to see if his dad is reading on the couch.

 

Nope. He’s in the clear.

 

Shawn smiles to himself and turns around to head upstairs, but he’s immediately startled by the sight of his father coming downstairs.

 

“Oh, hey, Shawn, I didn’t know you were –” Henry stops mid-sentence and squints. “What happened to your eye?”

 

Shawn ducks his head and squeezes his eyes shut, which causes him to wince in pain. His left eye is still recovering. “Uh, nothing.”

 

In almost no time, Henry’s standing before his son. “C’mon, tell me.”

 

Shawn licks his lips. “I, uh, tripped. And I fell.”

 

“And that gave you a shiner?” Henry gently lifts Shawn’s chin so that he can better expect his black eye. “Shawn, what have I told you about getting in fights?”

 

Shawn pushes his father’s hand away. “‘Only use your fists as a last resort.’ ‘Violence is never the first answer, even if the other guy is holding a gun.’” He shrugs. “I know.”

 

“So how come you got into a fight?”

 

Shawn glares at his father. “Dad, how many fights have I gotten in the entire time I’ve been to school?”

 

Henry looks to the ceiling and counts mentally. “About seven since first grade. Why are you asking me?”

 

“Do you remember the reasoning for any of them?”

 

“Usually it had something to do with Gus being bullied.”

 

Shawn nods furiously. “Yeah, well, this time, it wasn’t just Gus. It wasn’t just Gus and me. This- this  _ jackass _ at school was talking shit about you and Mom and Gus. He also talked crap about me, but I don’t care so much about that.”

 

“Shawn, I can defend myself just fine. Besides, you should listen to your mother about this: words solve more problems than violence ever will.”

 

Shawn shakes his head, pulls out one of the kitchen chairs, and sits down heavily. “You didn’t hear what he was saying, Pops.”

 

Henry sighs and heads over to the freezer. He pulls out a slab of meat and passes it to Shawn. “Here,” he says, “put this on your eye and then tell me  _ why _ the hell you got into a fight. Your vague description is not good enough. I suppose I can expect a call from the principal soon?”

 

Shawn nods and puts the meat on his eye. “He’s Mr. All-Around. I don’t care so much that he’s popular, but he’s just- he’s a  _ douche. _ And yeah, I know you can defend yourself, which is why I  _ didn’t _ punch him the first seventeen times he insulted you. Today, after school, he was talking loudly, before the bus showed up, and said that –” Shawn stops in his sentence and sighs heavily. He takes a moment to gather his words and to push away all emotion. “He said that it would have been better if that bomb had been detonated at the police station. While you were in it.”

 

Henry furrows his brow. “Shawn, that’s something you tell an adult about and let them handle. This kid is obviously just a jerk, you didn’t– I mean, I’m flattered that you wanted to defend my honor, son, but that’s no reason for you to throw the first punch.”

 

Shawn scoffs. “Dad, I was seriously thinking about decking him right then and there. I didn’t because I knew I would lose the fight if I chose to fight then. But then ol’ Blabber-Mouth kept talking, but then he started talking about Gus and how Gus is a freak. He said some pretty racist stuff. I told him to shut up, but he didn’t.”

 

Henry nods along slowly. “And that’s when you threw the first punch?”

 

“Again, I was about to, but I kept trying to listen to what you’d told me. But  _ then, _ he said that Mom was –” he clenches his jaw, and Henry can see the controlled rage behind his son’s good eye. “He said that Mom was a slut and a workaholic.” Shawn licks his lips and sighs. “He also said that you and Mom never wanted me in the first place, that Mom– that Mom didn’t love me at all, and that you –” he closes his eyes and slams his fist down on the table.

 

“What did he say about your mother and me, Shawn?”

 

“He said that you were abusive and Mom didn’t slash  _ doesn’t _ want kids.” Shawn shakes his head and clenches his fist, preparing to slam it down on the table again, but he catches his dad’s eye and Henry shakes his head no. “Basically, he just said that you two were terrible parents who didn’t care about me at all and that I would be doing everyone a favor if I offed myself.”

 

Henry sits up straighter, and the protest is evident in his eyes. “Shawn, do  _ not  _ listen to a word he says –”

 

Shawn holds up a finger. “And  _ that’s  _ when I decked him.” He shrugs guiltily. “I actually swung when he said that about you. Did you know he was the State boxing champion back in Iowa? Because I didn’t until he knocked me to the ground. I got back up, and I wanted to keep fighting.”

 

“And he just decked you again?”

 

Shawn nods slowly. “Yep. Dad, I’m tired. Can- can I just go to my room?”

 

Henry shakes his head. “No. Son, we’ve got to talk about this.”

 

“I know, Dad, I won’t fight anymo–”

 

Henry holds up a hand. “No. No, I didn’t mean that. You were perfectly justified in fighting back. I just want to make sure you won’t take what he says to heart.”

 

“What, that you two are terrible parents? I didn’t. I got mad because you two are the exact opposite. Not perfect, certainly, but no parent is.”

 

Henry smiles softly. “No, I mean…about the not wanting kids thing.”

 

Shawn’s shoulders sag. “You guys didn’t want me?”

 

Henry scrubs a hand over his face. “I wouldn’t phrase it that way, son. We didn’t expect you. At first, you weren’t part of the plan, but then…” He sighs and runs a hand through his thinning hair. “Your mother found out she was pregnant, and that was one of the best days of our lives, topped only by the day you were born. We wanted you, Shawn. We love you.” He licks his lips.  _ Even if it’s hard for us to love each other, _ he thinks,  _ we’ll always love you. That will always be the one thing we can agree on. _

 

Shawn ducks his head. “Did Mom ever want kids?”

 

Henry considers the question for a moment. “She was never opposed to having kids, but she felt that we should wait before we started trying. We did wait a couple of years, and then we ended up having you.” He leans forward. “But, Shawn, I want you to understand one thing: your mother and I don’t want kids.”

 

Shawn flinches at those words, and Henry gently removes the meat from Shawn’s eye so that Shawn will be forced to look at him.

 

“We want  _ you. _ We don’t need any more children. Besides, even if we did want more kids, Gus is already like another son to us both. When I say that we don’t want kids, I mean we don’t want to try again because you’re already the best thing that’s happened to either of us.”

 

Shawn blinks. “That’s a really roundabout way of saying you love me.”

 

“Yeah, that’s because I’m not good with words.” Henry sits back and hooks a thumb to the staircase. “Head upstairs, I’ll bring you a better ice pack in a sec.”

 

Shawn nods and leaves the kitchen.

 

Two minutes later, Henry knocks on Shawn’s door and turns the doorknob. Shawn looks up and starts, dropping the shirt that he was about to change into.

 

Henry sets the ice pack on top of Shawn’s dresser. “Jesus Christ,” he says, carefully looking at the speckles of bruises covering Shawn’s torso. “Why didn’t you tell me, Shawn?”

 

Shawn winces and carefully lowers himself onto the mattress. “I didn’t want– I don’t know.” He laughs humorlessly, grimacing when the action causes his bruises to hurt more. “Did you know that his buddies love to fight? And that he has a lot of friends who can fight? Because he does.” He shakes his head. “Kicking a man when he’s down. I protected my face, but I couldn’t protect my ribs.”

 

Henry opens his mouth to speak, but he’s just so heartbroken at the sight of his son in so much pain. “Shawn, you know I have to take you to the hospital?”

 

Shawn looks up sharply. “What? No. Oh, no no no no no no. No, you don’t.” He knows he’s not going to win this debate, but he might as well try. “If I  _ go _ to the hospital, they’ll think I’m weak, and- and –”

 

“And they’ll repeat what they said today the next time they see you, but Shawn, I have to be sure you don’t have any broken ribs. C’mon, put your shirt on. We’re going to the hospital. I’ll call your mother once we get downstairs.”

 

Shawn stares at the floor for a moment. “Dad?” he finally asks.

 

“Yeah, son?”

 

“Am I really that much of a screw-up that no one else would want me?”

 

Henry sighs and sits down next to his son. “Shawn,” he says matter-of-factly, “you aren’t a screw-up. Whatever this jackass has said about you,  _ ignore _ it. It’s not true. Besides, I don’t trust a guy who lets his buddies kick someone when they’re down.”

 

Shawn closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Dad, I can’t go back there.”

 

Henry wraps an arm around Shawn’s shoulders and pulls him close. “Yes, you can, Shawn. You’re stronger than them.”

 

Shawn rests his head on Henry’s shoulder. “No, I’m not,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m not.”

 

“If you transfer, Gus will be left all alone to defend himself. Do you think he could do that by himself? Do you think you could handle school without him?”

 

Shawn lifts one hand and wipes his cheek. “I couldn’t,” he says, and his voice is thick. “Dad, why were they so mean?”

 

Henry’s heart breaks when he hears just how young Shawn sounds.  _ Of course he sounds like a little kid, Henry. He’s only fourteen. _

 

“Tell you what,” he says, brushing the hair out of Shawn’s eyes, “after the hospital, you and I will pick up all the ice cream we can eat, and we can watch whichever movie or show you want to watch, and then you and your mother can talk. Sound good?”

 

Shawn considers the offer for a moment and then nods solemnly. “Yeah,” he says, sniffling. “Yeah, sounds good.”

 

Henry sighs softly and presses a kiss to Shawn’s temple. “I love you more than anything in the world, Shawn. Remember that always.”

 

Shawn nods and wipes his cheek again. “Thanks, Dad. I love you, too.”

 

**

 

  1. **electrocution**



 

Shawn Spencer has had his fair share of dangerous situations, but he takes pride that, until today, he was able to avoid getting his loved ones roped into his messes (except for the entire Yin and Yang case – that was a different story because, well, serial killers; besides, they personally singled him out and tried to make his life a living hell but that’s not the  _ point). _ Up until today, in fact, he was very good about only getting  _ himself  _ into increasingly dangerous situations.

 

How was he supposed to know that the guys he’d been following were drug lords? He was stalking them because their girlfriends thought they were cheating on them.

 

Though, now, if he had to guess, Shawn would say the girlfriends were in on it, too, just in case the police got involved and brought Shawn and Gus in as consultants.

 

Which could explain why Henry is here as well.

 

Shawn tries to free himself from the restraints, but his hands are tied behind his back with the zip plastic, and one glance at Henry’s and Gus’s chairs prove that that indeed is the restraint of choice in these parts. The chairs are made of steel, and they’re very hard and very cold.

 

To Shawn’s right, Gus is on the verge of a panic attack. To his left, Henry is trying to assess the severity of their predicament. At the front of the warehouse, in this bleak and gray-streaked room, the drug lords whisper, gesturing wildly with various instruments of what Shawn can only assume as torture. He twists his head.

 

“Dad.”

 

Henry looks away from the front of the room and changes his focus to Shawn. “What?”

 

“Um, what are they doing?”

 

Henry shakes his head. “I’m assuming they’re preparing to torture us.” He leans forward – as much as his restraints will allow – and hisses, “Do you have any idea what you stumbled upon?”

 

Shawn shrinks into his shoulders like a turtle retreating into its shell. “I didn’t know! I thought I was just following sleazy boyfriends!”

 

Henry sighs, and he sounds exhausted. “I’m sorry, son, it’s just – how did they get so good at fooling people?”

 

“I think their girlfriends had something to do with it.”

 

Henry purses his lips and nods slowly. “Okay, first things first: get Gus over there to calm down. I’ll see what we can do about getting out of here.”

 

Shawn winces. “Dad, I don’t think that’s gonna happen.”

 

Henry lasers him with a gaze more intense than Shawn has ever received from his father. “You’re getting out of here alive. Gus, too. I swear on my own  _ grave, _ you two are getting out of here.”

 

“Dad –”

 

“No arguments. Calm Gus down.”

 

Shawn thinks about getting into an argument with his father, but he knows he’ll just lose it anyways, so he turns his head the other direction. “Hey. Hey, buddy.”

 

Gus whips his head around. “No. Don’t you ‘hey, buddy’ me. I  _ told _ you not to take another cheating boyfriend case, and what did you do? You took another cheating boyfriend case!”

 

“I thought it was just a cheating boyfriend!”

 

“Well, it wasn’t, Shawn!” Gus looks straight forward, where the drug lords seem to have arrived at an agreement. His chest rises rapidly and his bottom lip trembles.

 

Shawn sighs and licks his lips. “Look, Gus, I’m sorry. I– I didn’t think they’d drag you and my dad into this. I started us on this path, I should be– I should be the one to finish it.”

 

Gus tears his eyes away from their captors. “What the hell are you saying, Shawn?”

 

Shawn glances over his left shoulder, hoping that his dad isn’t listening in. Just in case, he leans as close as he can to Gus and whispers, “Listen, I’m not gonna let them kill you or Dad. You guys really weren’t even involved in this case; it’s my business, I’ll– I’d rather myself die than you or Dad.”

 

Gus shakes his head wildly. “Uh-uh. No, you don’t, Shawn. That’s just your way of guilt-tripping me into not having a panic attack, and you know what? It worked, but now I’m gonna tell your father about your self-sacrificial attitude.”

 

“What? Dude, don’t do this to m–”

 

“Mr. Spencer?”

 

“Shawn, if you die before me, I will kill you.”

 

Gus looks at Shawn and smiles smugly. “Listen, you had a date with Juliet tonight, right? Shouldn’t she know that you’re missing if you don’t show up?”

 

Shawn nods. “I hope so.” He laughs mirthlessly. “At least she’s not Abigail; she’d say that I was just standing her up.”

 

Gus nods in agreement, but before he can say much else, Henry catches their attention.

 

“Psst,” he hisses, nodding to the door. The drug lords’ lackeys waddle inside, holding a bare metal bed frame. They glance at their bosses and follow their index fingers to the bed’s destination.

 

“Oh, Jesus  _ Christ,” _ Henry breathes.

 

Gus takes in a sharp breath and recoils.

 

“What?” Shawn says, looking between them. “What am I missing? It’s just a bed frame, I don’t see –”

 

Henry nods to the electrodes in Bad Guy 1’s hands. “They’re planning to electrocute us. It’s a form of torture, originated from Argentina. It’s– it’s awful, to say the least, and if it kills us, they honestly couldn’t care less.”

 

Shawn gulps. “That is…very bad.”

 

“Yep.” Henry starts struggling against the restraints. “Hey!” he shouts, hoping to get the captors’ attention. “I was supposed to be watching OSU vs. OU right about now! You guys are keeping me from one hell of a game!”

 

Bad Guy 2 rolls his eyes. “Shut up, old man. We know what you’re doing.” He grins, and Shawn is immediately filled with fear. His smile is hungry, it’s evil. Bad Guy 2 strides over to the three of them, bends down in front of Henry, and says, “You know, just for that, we’re gonna make this kid beside you go first.”

 

All color drains from Henry’s face, and his body sags. “Please, God, no. Let me go first. Please, I’m begging you,  _ let me go first. _ Don’t hurt him.”

 

Bad Guy 2 chuckles. “Not gonna happen, old man.” He moves over to Shawn, cutting through his binds with Henry’s Swiss Army Knife. He grabs Shawn’s arm roughly and jerks him to his feet. Looking back at Henry, Bad Guy 2 grins. “Shoulda thought about that before you got our attention.” He bends over again. “Maybe we woulda put you before your son.” With that, he jerks Shawn forward, ignoring how Shawn stumbles and nearly falls.

 

At the front of the room, Bad Guy 2 passes Shawn off to the lackeys. “Strip him,” he says.

 

Shawn’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wh-what? Str-  _ strip _ me? As in, take off my clothes? Gentlemen, I’m flattered, and you’re all very attractive, but I don’t- it’s only the first date, and besides, I have a girlfriend.”

 

Bad Guy 1 shakes his head and the lackeys pause. Bad Guy 1 has stringy blonde hair, a dyed eyebrow (who the heck would dye their eyebrow? Just the one, not the other?), and pale blue eyes that look like ice. His nose is dotted with freckles, and his neck sports a tattoo that says  **LIVE. LAF. LUV.** and Shawn has no idea whether the misspelling was intentional or if the guy just can’t spell, but he figures it’s not the time to ask.

 

Bad Guy 1 points to Bad Guy 2 (who, in contrast, has luscious black hair that could rival Shawn’s own, great eyebrows, and dangerous green eyes). “Listen, I have a date tonight and I won’t be able to get it on if I’ve seen  _ any _ of their dongs. Take off their shirts and their pants, but leave their underwear on.” He squints at Shawn. “Please tell me you’re wearing underwear.”

 

Relieved that he won’t be  _ completely _ naked in front of his father, Shawn nods rapidly. “Y-yes, I’m wearing underwear.”

 

Bad Guy 1 nods slowly. “Good.” He points to the lackeys. “Okay, strip him, but remember: leave the underwear on.”

 

One lackey is significantly more buff than the other, and the buff guy takes to holding Shawn down while the other cuts the shirt off of Shawn’s back.

 

“Oh, man,” Shawn says as the shirt falls to the floor, “that was my favorite.”

 

“Shawn, shut up!” Gus calls.

 

If he had use of his hands, Shawn would flip Gus off. He’s not being very helpful right now.

 

The buff guy picks Shawn up and lays him on the bed frame. The metal is cold to Shawn’s back, and he flinches upon contact. The skinnier lackey lifts Shawn’s arms, grabs a zip tie, and binds Shawn’s arms to the head of the bed frame. Once he’s pinned, the buff lackey undoes Shawn’s belt and pulls off his pants.

 

Logically, Shawn knows (hopes, more like it) that they probably won’t rape him, especially if his underwear is supposed to stay on, but he still finds himself closing his eyes and turning his head away from the lackeys once they start on his pants. Over at the back of the room, he can practically hear his father’s rage at these men.

 

“Should we oil him, boss?” the skinny guy asks.

 

_ “What?” _ Shawn, Henry, and Gus all say at the same time.

 

Bad Guy 1 (Shawn takes it that he’s the head guy) shakes his head. “Nah. Let’s just apply these electrodes to his body and then we’ll be in business.”

 

“What about the blindfold?”

 

Boss Guy smiles, and though it’s not as unnerving as Bad Guy 2’s smile, it’s still pretty unsettling. “How could I forget?” he says, passing a bandana to the buff lackey. “Would you be so willing as to do the honors, Albert?”

 

_ Albert? That’s not a very criminal-ly name. _

 

The skinny guy takes the electrode from Boss Guy and places it on the left side of Shawn’s chest. Boss Guy holds a wire with a bare end in one of his hands, and Shawn’s stomach twists when he realizes what its use probably is.

 

Before Albert secures the blindfold around Shawn’s eyes, Shawn looks to his father. “Dad, help,” he whimpers. His heart rate picks up, and tears prick at his eyes. “Dad, please, help me. I- Dad,  _ please.” _

 

Henry jerks against his restraints, knowing full well it will do absolutely nothing, but hoping that he can save Shawn nonetheless.

 

Shawn hasn’t begged Henry for help like that since he was 4, and that was when he had a severe case of the flu. Henry felt just as helpless then as he does now.

 

Albert secures the blindfold around Shawn’s head, tying it tightly. Shawn can no longer see, and his panic multiplies exponentially. He jerks his hands against the restraints, but he has no chance of escape. He waits for the first shock to go through him, but he first feels Albert move his leg and bind it with a zip tie. The skinny guy takes the other and does the same.

 

He’s completely and utterly vulnerable, and not in a good way. The worst part is that he can’t even see when Boss Guy is about to electrocute him; he’s left in the dark, quite literally.

 

If his hands were by his sides, and if he weren’t bound by zip ties, his hands would be shaking.

 

The wire just barely touches the right side of Shawn’s neck, and the electrical current rushes through his body. His muscles constrict, tighten like someone’s squeezing the life out of them. He opens his mouth, and he screams.

 

*

 

When Henry Spencer hears his son’s screams, he hangs his head and tries not to throw up. It’s the worst sound he’s ever heard. Not only is Shawn screaming and pleading for mercy, but he’s dying.

 

Henry would do anything to trade places with him.

 

*

 

When Burton Guster hears his best friend’s screams, he’s overwhelmed. Shawn is the strongest person he knows, and he has been stripped, almost entirely, of any sort of protection. Gus closes his eyes tightly and turns his face away from the drug lords.

 

Crying is weakness, and weakness means death.

 

*

 

He expected to feel relief when Boss Guy pulled away the bare wire, but when the currents stop rushing through his body, the only semblance of relief is the fact that he can breathe in shallow breaths. His heart races wildly, and he knows he won’t be able to stand this for long.

 

Shawn counts the seconds that pass by without the feeling of electricity running throughout his body, but he doesn’t allow himself to relax. Thirty seconds. Forty-five.

 

If he thought getting  _ shot _ was painful, it doesn’t even compare to the pain of electrocution.

 

After three minutes go by, Shawn knows, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that the next wave is coming in less than sixty seconds.

 

Boss Guy touches the tip of the wire to Shawn’s ribcage.

 

Flashes of color explode behind his eyelids, and he doesn’t know how to breathe. The pain is more excruciating than even the first wave. His lung seizes, and he can feel his heart beating harder, faster. Any longer, and he’ll die.

 

*

 

Shawn Spencer doesn’t scream the second time around. He doesn’t have enough air for it.

 

For Henry to see his son so vulnerable, and for him to be unable to help…it’s his worst nightmare come to life. Henry wants to close his eyes, look away, pretend that this is not happening, but he can’t tear his eyes away from his only  _ child _ trembling on that bed frame, so small and so terrified. He seems so young, and when Henry blinks, he can see 7-year-old Shawn begging his dad to save him.

 

The boss pulls away the wire after what seems like an eternity (it’s only been three seconds, which was five seconds shorter than the first shock), and Shawn’s body almost gives out. He turns his head, trying to find a comfortable position. “Dad…please-  _ please _ save me. Dad…”

 

Henry bites his bottom lip. He hasn’t cried since Shawn was kidnapped a year and a half ago, but seeing his son like this…

 

He should have just kept his damn mouth shut.

 

*

 

Juliet O’Hara called her partner when Shawn failed to show up to their date. He has never stood her up, and if he couldn’t make it (one time, he got really bad food poisoning thanks to Henry’s cooking and vomited for three days straight, and she was so thankful that he cancelled on her), he always told her if he couldn’t. If he’s late, he texts or calls to tell her that he’s going to be late. When he failed to contact her, she knew something was very wrong.

 

So she calls Lassiter, and even he admits that it’s pretty fishy. He meets her at the restaurant, and they try to call Gus to see if Shawn’s busy with something else, but he doesn’t answer.

 

They made a trip to the Psych office, where they found Shawn’s most recent case file. A Ms. Amy Elaine had told Shawn that she thought her boyfriend, a Neil Hendrix, was cheating on her. Lassiter recognizes both Ms. Elaine and Hendrix, and they make a trip to the station.

 

Both are a part of a major gang known as  _ Los Ajenos. _ They’re known for smuggling drugs and other contraband into and outside of the country. Amy Elaine is especially known for selling to high schoolers, and her crime partner, Lisa Rank, is known for pedophilia.

 

They’ve been tracking these people for months with nothing but a trace, and yet, they approach Shawn and target him.

 

Lassiter pulls up all reports of stolen vehicles in the past 24 hours and finds a stolen 2013 Denali. His eyes flash. “Come on, O’Hara,” he says, grabbing his jacket. He points to McNab. “You, try and track that vehicle. I may not be Spencer, but I have an idea of where they are.”

 

*

 

Sometimes, Carlton Lassiter  _ really _ hates being right.

 

As they creep into the warehouse, guns drawn, they hear the sound of screaming. It’s agonized screaming, and it only lasts for a couple of seconds. The lights flicker, and when Lassiter stops examining the lights, he notices that O’Hara has run in the direction of the screaming.

 

He runs after her, and shots are immediately fired. When he reaches her, he ducks behind crates of drugs. “What the hell are you doing?” he shouts over the sound of gunshots.

 

“They have Shawn!” she shouts back, steeling herself before she stands and fires twice. There’s a  _ thud, _ and Carlton peers around the crate to see that one of the lackeys is dead.

 

He rolls his eyes. “Y’know, we might have to put Spencer through a self-defense course.” He stands up, takes aim, and shoots the other lackey in the head. “Clear.”

 

He and O’Hara sprint to the door. They lock eyes and she nods once. He kicks in the door, guns raised.

 

Hendrix’s partner, Adam Pollick, is holding Spencer’s mouth open. Inside Shawn’s mouth is a bare wire. O’Hara stops in horror, and the color drains from her face.

 

Carlton is horrified by this. Never,  _ never _ has he seen someone so evil as to torture people. At least Yin killed them quickly and then moved on with it. Granted, Yin also nearly killed O’Hara, but…

 

Shawn Spencer’s body jerks randomly. In a few more seconds, he’ll be dead, if he even has that long. As it stands now, he’ll probably be paralyzed or a vegetable for the rest of his life.

 

Carlton shoots Adam Pollick twice: once in the neck, and once in the head. Sue him, put him in prison for it, but he needed to make sure Pollick was dead.

 

Pollick collapses after the first shot, and Spencer’s body relaxes. O’Hara moves to take the wire from his mouth, but Carlton shakes his head and points to Guster and Henry. “Release them. I’ll take care of Shawn.”

 

His voice leaves no room for an argument, so O’Hara moves to release the other two.

 

Carlton immediately pulls the wire out of Shawn’s mouth, and his body relaxes slightly. He presses two fingers to Shawn’s neck and breathes out a small sigh of relief when he feels the thready pulse.

 

*

 

As soon as they clear the building (Hendrix slipped away from them as soon as he heard the first shots fired), Juliet releases Henry, and he wastes no time in getting up and rushing to his son’s side. Lassiter steps aside and gives the two a moment, helping Gus out of the room.

 

The EMTs, however, don’t give him a moment, instead lifting Shawn onto a gurney. “Are you his father?” one of them asks.

 

“Yes,” Henry says, sniffling. “Yes, he’s my son.”

 

As they pass by Juliet and Lassiter, Juliet moves to go after Shawn, but Carlton holds her back, slowly shaking his head.

 

Once they’re in the ambulance, Henry rests his hands over Shawn’s heart and bows his head. “God, give me my son back,” he prays. “Please, please, give me my son back.”

 

**

 

  1. **“Stay.”**



 

When he wakes up, he feels like his throat is raw. His muscles still feel tight, but if he looks down, he can see his hands twitching every few seconds. It takes him a moment, but he remembers why he’s in a hospital bed.

 

The memory slams him in the chest, and he immediately recoils. His chest rises and falls rapidly, his heart rate speeds up, and the twitches in his hands start getting more frequent.

 

A flurry of people rush into his room. His dad and Jules are on the medical team’s heels. The doctor nods to the nurse and moves to stand at Shawn’s bedside.

 

“Hey, Shawn?” the doctor says. “I’m Doctor Chek.” Chek smiles warmly at him. “Listen, your heart rate is really high and we just want to make sure you’re not going into shock. Can you tell me what you’re thinking of right now?”

 

Shawn doesn’t notice his body is shaking until his father maneuvers around the doctor and grabs his hand. “It’s okay, Shawn, we’re here.”

 

Shawn gulps and licks his lips. “I- I remembered the- I remembered getting electrocuted.”

 

Dr. Chek purses his lips and nods slowly. “That’s completely understandable, Shawn, but I want you to think of something else, like your girlfriend or dogs or your favorite food.”

 

Shawn perks up slightly and looks to Gus. “Pineapples?”

 

Gus smiles, sniffles, wipes his nose, and nods. “I can go get you a pineapple smoothie if you want, Shawn.” He looks to Dr. Chek. “As long as that’s okay.”

 

Dr. Chek shrugs. “Go ahead, his body could probably use those nutrients.”

 

Gus walks over, squeezes Shawn’s other hand, and promises to get Shawn the  _ best _ pineapple smoothie in Santa Barbara.

 

The rest of them wait for Gus to leave, and then Lassie steps forward, holding a paper grocery bag. “Here,” he says roughly, passing it along to Shawn, “I thought it might make your stay a little easier.”

 

Jules moves to Shawn’s other side and helps him unload the gift bag. Lassie packed a new pair of pajamas (Shawn’s mildly impressed that they’re the right size), fuzzy socks, a fuzzy blanket, a deck of cards, miniature chess, and puzzle books.

 

Shawn looks up, and he would almost be too embarrassed to admit that Lassie’s act of kindness made him cry, but he’s not about living life like that anymore. He sniffles, nods at Lassie, and says, “Thanks, man, I– I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

 

Lassie shrugs, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Gus insisted that we get you a fuzzy blanket, and Chief Vick picked out the fuzzy socks and the pajamas. O’Hara told us your size.”

 

“Who got me the games?”

 

Lassie ducks his head sheepishly. “That was me. Your dad told us that you liked puzzles and games, so I thought it wouldn’t be such a bad idea.” He nods to the bag. “There’s a get-well card in there. We wanted to get you flowers, but there weren’t any good arrangements when we went in.”

 

Shawn swallows past the lump in his throat. “Thanks, Lassie, that really– it really means a lot.”

 

Lassie smiles at him. “Anytime, Shawn.” He checks his watch and glances at Vick. “Uh, Chief, you want to see if the florist has anymore flower arrangements? I think Spencer’s room could use a bit more color.”

 

She smiles warmly at first Lassie, then Shawn. “Of course, Detective. Shawn, do you want us to get you some get-well balloons, too? It’s no trouble.”

 

Shawn glances around the room. “That– that would be nice, thank you.”

 

“Get well, Mr. Spencer,” she says, gently turning Lassie around and leading him out of the room.

 

Juliet wipes her eyes. “Here,” she says, reaching onto the chair next to Shawn’s bed. “I brought your present earlier.” She passes a little stuffed koala to him. “I, uh…I better get going, Shawn, I have a lot of work to do and you probably want to spend time with your dad –” She moves to leave, but Shawn grabs her hand.

 

“Stay.” The word is so simple, so gentle, almost like a plea.

 

Jules sits down.

 

Henry watches the moment pass between them and smiles softly to himself.  _ I always knew the day would come when he loved a girl this much. Guess I just didn’t expect it to happen this soon. _ He kisses his son’s forehead. “I’ll be back later, Shawn. I love you.”

 

“I love you, too, Dad.” Shawn waits until his father leaves the room (though, if Shawn is being completely honest, Henry’s probably just standing outside in the hallway or as close as he can be), and then he turns to Juliet. “Jules, this wasn’t your fault.”

 

She grabs his hand. “I don’t ever want to have to worry about you like that again.”

 

“You won’t have to. I promise, Jules, I will not get myself that in over my head ever again.”

 

Her smile is watery. “You can’t promise that.”

 

He smiles softly in return. “Yeah, I can,” he whispers, “I’m a psychic.”

 

Her laugh is the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard.

 

**

 

  1. **car wreck**



 

_ 1986 _

 

The rain pours down in torrents, effectively creating a gray sheet that’s difficult to see through. Most of the children at school are huddled inside, waiting for their parents to come rushing in with an umbrella. The students who aren’t huddling inside, for the most part, have their umbrellas with them and have seen their parents’ cars.

 

Shawn Spencer is one of the children who  _ doesn’t _ have an umbrella and  _ isn’t _ waiting inside.

 

He knows his dad will roll his eyes and probably provide some sort of lecture as to why he should take care not to get wet so that he doesn’t ruin the seats in the truck that’s older than Shawn himself, but it’s fun to play in the rain, and they’ve had a huge drought this year. Despite the fact that he’s dancing around in the rain, effectively ignoring Gus whisper-shouting at him to get his butt inside, he does take care to avoid the big puddles. His mom got him these brand-new shoes for his birthday, and he wants to mess them up as little as possible.

 

Gus is steeling himself to run outside to grab Shawn when Henry Spencer’s truck pulls up next to the school. Henry narrows his eyes at his dripping wet son, but jerks his head for Shawn to get in the car. Shawn turns around, waves goodbye to Gus, and scrambles inside the truck.

 

“Shawn,” Henry says, shaking his head, “why do you  _ always  _ have to play in the rain? Can’t you just wait until you’re home to do so?”

 

Shawn wedges his backpack in between his dad and himself. His wet shirt sticks to his back, and his jeans are dripping. A shiver runs up his spine, and goosebumps start lining his arms. He shivers, and his teeth click together. “I-I don’t know when it’ll stop raining, so I play in the rain when it’s p-pouring.”

 

Henry sighs and pulls out of the parking lot. “One of these days, you’re going to catch pneumonia, and I will tell your mother that it was all your fault.”

 

Shawn grins at him. “She’ll still take me to the doctor.”

 

Henry glances at him and smirks. “Yeah, but you’ll have to get all these different shots.”

 

Shawn clamps his mouth shut.

 

The rain pounds hard on the roof of the truck as Shawn settles into shivering silence. Henry winces, briefly concerned that he somehow upset his son, but he’s more concerned about getting Shawn nice and dry.

 

Shawn licks his lips. “Mrs. Benton said that we don’t have any homework tonight, Dad.”

 

Henry raises an eyebrow, but he keeps his eyes on the road. His poor old truck’s windshield wipers can’t keep up with the torrent of rain, no matter how high of a setting they’re on. “Oh, yeah? What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

Shawn shrugs and bites his thumbnail. “Maybe, when I get cleaned up, and after dinner, you, Mom, and I can watch a movie?”

 

Henry smirks and tries to squint through the windshield. He can’t see a damned thing. “What makes you think that?”

 

“Well…” Shawn drawls, sheepishly glancing at his father. “I was thinking that we could since I don’t have any homework?”

 

“Shawn, you know the rules: no movies during the school week.” He’s seriously considering pulling over until the storm subsides.

 

“But Daaaa–”

 

Before Shawn can finish his complaint, another car spins into them. As soon as Henry feels the contact, he throws out his right arm to push Shawn back into his seat. His truck skids, spins. Shawn’s screaming. Henry can’t see anything out of the window, but a shadow looms nearby. Henry grits his teeth, pulls his arm away from Shawn, and jerks the steering wheel away from the tree. Finally,  _ finally, _ the truck comes to a halt, and Henry immediately throws it in park and turns to Shawn.

 

Shawn’s eyes are wide with terror, and Henry notices the thin trail of blood running down the right side of Shawn’s face.

 

“Hey, Shawn, look at me,” he says, his voice soft and gentle. He gently grabs Shawn’s face in his hands and takes a look at the small gash on Shawn’s forehead. Shawn winces when Henry pushes Shawn’s hair away and checks the cut, but it’s not too deep – he can fix it up at home. Small wound aside, though, Henry needs to make sure that Shawn’s okay. “Shawn, are you alright?”

 

Shawn licks his lips and nods slowly. “Y-yeah, I’m fine, Dad.” His voice is tiny compared to Shawn’s normal personality, and Henry sighs, unbuckles, and scoots closer to his son. Shawn stretches out his arms immediately, and Henry pulls Shawn into a hug.

 

“Once the storm lets up, we’ll get home. As for now…what were you saying about watching a movie?”

 

Shawn grins against Henry’s shoulder.

 

**

 

  1. **heart attack**



 

On Wednesday night, Shawn shows up to his father’s house for his weekly “Dinner-with-Dad.” The smell of freshly-mown grass takes a backseat only to the smell of steaks grilling. Henry looks up from the grill, grins at Shawn, and waves. “Come on,” he says, gesturing with his free hand. “Come on in!”

 

A few years ago, Shawn would have tentatively stepped onto the porch, but now, he immediately makes a beeline for the veggies that Henry’s about to put on the grill. Henry smacks his hand. “Save your appetite.” He jerks his head toward the house. “Your mother’s inside. Go say hi.”

 

Shawn raises an eyebrow. “Wait, Mom’s in town? Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

Henry shrugs and chuckles. “I didn’t know myself, until she knocked on my door. She’s joining us. Go say hi.”

 

Shawn rolls his eyes, pats his father’s shoulder, and hurries inside. “Hey, Mom!”

 

Maddy looks up from the scrapbook in her hands. She takes off her glasses and stands up, moving around the table to hug Shawn. “Hey, Goose!” She wraps Shawn tightly in her arms. “How are you doing?”

 

“I’m doing just fine, Mom. How are you?”

 

She pulls away from Shawn. “I’m great, honey. Your father said you have a girlfriend now.”

 

Shawn groans. “He told you about that?”

 

Maddy lightly smacks his shoulder. “Of course he told me!” She leans forward, as if letting Shawn in on a secret. “Juliet is a great girl. She’ll make a great daughter-in-law.”

 

Shawn groans again and twirls on his heel. “Mooooommmm! Did he tell you I was thinking of proposing?”

 

Maddy grins. “Oh, Goose, I asked him if you had started dating anyone after you and Abigail broke up, and when he told me about you and Juliet, I asked how serious it was. Don’t blame him.”

 

“I’m going outside to hang out with Dad. At least then, I don’t have to deal with questions about my love life.”

 

Maddy pulls out her phone and waves it in Shawn’s face. “I learned how to text. Maybe I’ll text your father to harass you about your love life.”

 

“Mooooommmm.”

 

As Shawn steps back onto the porch, he silently admits to himself that, though he knows his parents will probably never get back together, he can’t help but love these days when they’re like a family again: when Henry grills steak on the porch, when Maddy scrapbooks and gently harasses him about his life, and when he’s comfortable enough with both of them to hop back and forth between the porch and the kitchen. It’s almost like the days of his childhood, when he excitedly bounced on the balls of his feet as his dad showed him how to grill properly, or when he sat next to his mother on rainy days, complaining to her about how  _ boring _ school was as she scrapbooked.

 

Henry looks up when he hears Shawn’s feet. “She haraunging you about Juliet?”

 

Shawn huffs out a laugh and runs his hand through his hair. “Yeah…that’s more of a post-dinner conversation, don’t you think?”

 

Henry chuckles and turns back to the grill. “You’re not wrong.” He adds the vegetables to the grill. “You know –”

 

Shawn’s about to ask what Henry was about to say, but his eyes immediately catch how Henry grips the tongs tighter, how his left arm shakes and trembles, how Henry clutches at the left side of his chest, and how Henry’s breath intake is minimal.

 

“Dad?” Shawn says, his voice taking on a note of concern. He hurries forward, braces his arms around Henry. “Dad, tell me what’s wrong.”

 

Henry grits his teeth and hisses. “It– it feels like– squeezing.” Henry’s knees give out, and he collapses against Shawn.

 

Shawn readjusts his grip. “Mom!” he shouts. “Mom, call for an ambulance! Dad’s having a heart attack!”

**Author's Note:**

> Like it, love it, hate it? Leave a comment below or go to my tumblr @ my-glasses-are-dirty and tell me what you think!


End file.
